Rampant (5 page)

“That’s not true. You’re his whole world.”

“I’m fucking tired of being his world. I’m tired of it all. You don’t know him like I do.” He swallowed hard, and his eyes glistened with a lifetime of resentment. If I thought Dad had been tough on me, he’d been harder on Zach. Pushing him to be the best, to fight rougher, meaner.
Never back down, son! Don’t be an embarrassment. Losing isn’t an option.

He rested his forehead against mine. “Quitting is a relief. I don’t want to fight. The belts, the championships, none of it matters. I just want you. Everything is so easy with you, second nature, like breathing. Remember when we were kids and we’d hide under the covers every time they’d get into another fight? You made me feel needed. Wanted. Let’s just hide here forever, Lex.”

Damn him. I blinked, suppressing the burning tears in my eyes. How could one person pull me in so many directions? He repulsed me, made me furious, made me feel the most intense hatred a person could harbor…yet he still made me care. What would it take before I forgot the good times, the years when he was there for me as a brother should be? While our parents had waged war in the house, he’d been my safe place, the one who held me and told me to hang on a little longer because it would be over soon. If I’d known back then how dark he’d turn, if I’d been capable of understanding what that darkness meant, I wouldn’t have gone to him for comfort. I wouldn’t have looked at him as a brother, because that connection made hating him messy and complicated.

Zach was a minefield of which I was stuck in the middle. It didn’t matter which way I stepped, an explosion strong enough to dismember was bound to happen.

“I have to pee,” I said, needing the distraction, needing distance. I squirmed, and my bladder begged for release.

He pulled away and gestured toward the bathroom. “Come back naked. I have a surprise for you.”

“I don’t want your surprises. I want you to let me go.”

Thick brows furrowed over intense eyes filled with determination. “That’s not gonna happen.”

I turned my back to him, thinking how the eyes of someone so rotten to the soul shouldn’t hold so much beauty. The weight of his scrutiny followed me into the bathroom. After I took care of business, I deliberated removing my clothing, but self-preservation won the battle. The thought of igniting his wrath made the decision for me. I took my time undressing, then glanced down at my breasts with a cringe. Fading bruises and crisscrossed welts covered my skin in a grotesque mural of purple and yellow. I feathered my fingers over the marks of his rage, and my feet refused to move, as if they sensed the pain waiting for me. But stalling would only delay the inescapable. I had no way out.

I returned to him, avoiding eye contact, and folded my arms to hide my breasts.
Not
fighting him seemed wrong. I had nothing left to lose and everything to gain with my freedom.

“Bend over the bed.”

I gave a swift shake of my head.

In three strides, he grabbed my arms before hauling me across the room. I dug in my heels, pulled against his strength, but in the end he shoved me against the bed. “This is happening, Lex. Bend the fuck over and hold still, or I’ll beat the fight out of you.”

I went limp under the threat. My breasts flamed with the memory of his strikes, as if the wounds were hours old instead of a few days. Even now, each sharp bite of his switch ghosted through me. It hadn’t been a paddle to my ass, a punch to my gut or face, or a slap or bite. He’d lost his mind when he’d wailed on my body with that stick. I bent over the mattress, gripped the bedding, and waited, hoping he’d fuck me instead of beat me.

No warning. He pushed a finger in my ass, and I shrieked from the scorching burn of dry skin forcing entry into my rectum. He splayed one hand on my back, holding me in place while his finger stilled in my hole. “Don’t move.”

“Ow! What are you doing?”

“In a few minutes, you won’t give a shit what I’m doing.” He burrowed his finger in deeper, intensifying the sting. I let out a wail, terrified he was about to rape me anally.

“Please don’t do this!” My voice trembled so badly, the words came out wobbled and unrecognizable. Every spark of my being told me to flee, yet my body wouldn’t jump into motion. He didn’t have to threaten bodily harm—he’d already beaten the fight out of me the other night, when he’d drawn blood with his switch.

“Zach?” His name fell from my lips with uncertainty, an inquiry that sounded far off. A strange heat wave flushed my skin, and my pulse thumped at my throat. A flood of…something washed over me, making my head swim. I couldn’t explain or describe it, but my surroundings held new meaning. Fear evaporated, and things that were previously hidden, like the gold strands in the pattern of the bedspread or the knots in the walls, sprouted in a burst of vibrancy. Like a rosebud unfurling its petals in slow motion. I licked my lips and tasted the air. God. Nothing had ever fired up my taste buds so good.

The pressure in my ass subsided, but I remained sprawled on the bed, held captive by the details burgeoning around me.

Zach helped me stand, and the ground wobbled, the room warping in a blur…it was the most amazing feeling in the world. I didn’t care if I tipped. I was one with the floor, the hardwood incredibly smooth against the soles of my feet. He brushed me from behind, and I moaned at the velvety texture of his skin. Silk covered my eyes, so fluid it could have been milk, and cast me into a pit of sinfully dark bliss.

“Zach?” The name was wrong, and it rang through my ears, causing a hint of fear, but mostly a question, one I couldn’t formulate verbally.

What had he done to me?

“Shhh, it’s okay. Just feel me. Feel how much I want you. How much you want me.”

A whirl of air caressed my nakedness, and his breath feathered over my parted mouth. I inhaled his heady scent, like decadent chocolate, and darted my tongue out to lick the richness of his lips. Mmm…lips. I reached forward and thrust my tongue between them.

A groan rumbled from his throat. He commanded my tongue, sucked me in so far I fell into the cavity of his mouth. I pictured my body curled in a ball, as precious as a pearl and enclosed in slick heat, buoyed by his tongue.

“Baby, I need you.” His hands fell on my shoulders, two heavy weights I welcomed. I buckled to his demand, and my knees kissed the floor. His fingers crept up my neck, slid into my hair. Every inch of my skin came alive from the follicles of my scalp to the rough pads of my heels.

I purred under his caress. “Do that again.”

“This?” He repeated the motion, his fingertips dancing over my skin like a ballerina. I hummed the music that matched the steps, imagining my fingers flying over piano keys. The dance peaked at my chin and tilted me upward to greet the soft, wet mushroom seeking entrance to my mouth. My hum vibrated against the silky tip, and I envisioned the notes as colors, spirals of reds that glowed incandescent.

His moan mixed with the symphony. Rafe and I, we were creating a masterpiece.

Rafe…Rafe…Rafe…

His name echoed though my head, a tick, a glimmer of truth, as if that single thought was trying to tell me something.

“Love my cock.”

Rainbows of color swirled behind my eyes. In the darkness, I found freedom. Found the most unbelievable ecstasy possible. I parted my mouth, and when he pushed in, my pussy tingled, letting loose liquid fire between my thighs. I fastened my lips around his shaft, never tasting anything so sweet, and continued humming my notes, vibrating my masterpiece around the hardened silk filling my mouth.

What was that sound coming from him? Guttural, painful, sexy. I felt that low groaning in the flutter of my racing heart, the sweat on my back, deep in my belly where the ballerinas practiced pirouettes. My tongue lapped and lapped. I couldn’t get enough of his taste, his texture.

This was madness. I’d never be able to stop. I sucked harder, pulled his tip into my throat, and gagged.

Holy hell. I drew him further down and gagged again.

“Shit, Lex!”

I choked on his cum, thrown off by the nickname, but it was so flavorful, like nothing I’d ever sampled before. I didn’t want to miss a drop. He withdrew, and I whimpered, following with my tongue, still lapping. Lapping, lapping, lapping. Still tasting, still
needing
.

“Enough.” He picked me up and tossed me onto the bed where my body sank into heaven. Fluidity surrounded me, enfolding my skin in cool satin. I fisted my hands in it, suddenly discovering their existence. Why had it taken me so long? Fingers curled, smooth texture clenched in palms—everything exquisite, especially the inflexible expanse of his chest brushing the tips of my breasts.

His breaths whispered across my face, rustling my hair like a summer-laced breeze. My jaw slackened, tongue relaxed against my teeth, and a finger pressed inside. I closed my lips and sucked the salt from his skin. “Mmm.”

“God, I love you so much,” he said.

Soaring at his declaration, my mouth pulled on his finger, drawing him deeper. Tasting. I never wanted to stop tasting.

“No, baby.” He withdrew his finger. With a frown of displeasure, I chased it with my mouth. “Say what I want to hear.”

“Mmm, you taste so good.”

His laughter rumbled like a trombone. “I like you this way.”

“What way?” I almost told him to stop talking and let me taste again, but his voice was a drug I couldn’t resist.

“Higher than Mt. Fucking Everest.”

The curve of my lips felt alluring. “That’s pretty high.”

“Tell me you love me,” he demanded.

I loved everything about him. His taste, his touch, his voice. The way he made me feel, how he openly wore his vulnerability. The way he still loved me, protected me, even after all I’d done to him. Somewhere in the darkest corner of my mind, a siren sounded. A warning. Feeling this way was wrong…but I couldn’t recall why.

“I love you.” My chest squeezed as I uttered the words, and I imagined not only the love in Rafe’s green eyes, but the promise of forgiveness.

The promise of forever.

He smothered my grin with his mouth, and I was pretty sure Mt. Fucking Everest was a speck of dust in my brilliant world.

“I was sixteen the last time I set foot in this cabin.” The door shut behind me with a soft thud of finality, and I turned and faced the stranger who, apparently, knew me better than my own brother. After the things he’d told me about the elusive years my psyche refused to acknowledge, I was beginning to think he just might.

“As far as your memory goes, yeah, but before the shooting, you were living here.”

“Right,” I said with a sigh, dragging a hand through my unruly hair. A sling trapped my left arm, rendering it useless. I wandered into the living room, cursing the huge gaping hole in my life, and studied my dad’s cabin with new perspective. In so many ways it appeared unchanged. Same sturdy furniture, crafted by my grandfather’s hands and worn from many summers of use.

Standing in this place was akin to setting one foot in the present while the other planted firmly in the past. So much remained as I remembered, yet the subtle changes—the uncluttered space, free of Dad’s disorganized, spread-out existence—made my head swim with the evidence of what Jax had told me.

I’d been in prison.

My dad died while I was in there.

And I had no chance at ever fighting again—not in the way I’d dreamed of since I was old enough to throw a punch. Irritatingly, both Jax and Adam remained tight-lipped about
why
I’d been locked up, but Adam had made that last point abundantly clear; I’d left the world of fighting and had joined him in the family business. I was still trying to wrap my head around that piece of information.

“After your dad passed,” Jax said, halting beside me, “you offered me a place to stay. I’ve been doing the upkeep since.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Things look…different but the same. It’s strange.” I swerved my head toward him and he shrugged.

I moved toward the kitchen and sensed him following my slow steps. The room where Dad, Adam, and I had shared dirty jokes as we ate the day’s catch appeared the same too, though impeccably clean compared to what I remembered. The disorderly array of tackle boxes, fishing poles, and Dad’s overflowing ashtrays and beer bottles were absent. So was the musky scent of smoke. The paddle hanging by the back door was the only notable evidence of him.

An eerie chill drifted over my skin, almost as if someone had opened the door to the dead cold of winter, though the weather was mild for early June. I studied the kitchen table, drawn to it like a magnet, and the feeling I should recall something hit me with such significance, I froze, my feet stuck in place.

Drops of water pooling on the table, tangled hair, wet and wild, rioting down creamy skin. A perfectly round ass, reddened from the slap of wood. I blinked but the weird vision tingled down my spine in an odd way, making my dick stir.

I glanced out the windows and almost expected to see rain pummeling the ground, but the morning was just as clear and bright as it’d been when they released me from the hospital an hour ago. With a shake of my head, I lowered into a chair, being careful not to knock my sling into the table, and smoothed my palm across the course red oak surface, hoping to bring back that niggle of…something.